


Submersibles

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-23
Updated: 2006-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>missing scene from Grace Under Pressure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submersibles

Sheppard’s hands move tirelessly, mounting the grappling-hook-magnet-thing onto the jumper. Technically, it’s a job for the engineers, but he’s been here with them since the beginning welding and hauling chain, and they don’t seem to mind the intrusion. Or maybe they understand it, whatever, Sheppard doesn’t particularly care anymore.

At some point, he looks up and sees Zelenka next to him, making some alteration that will enable them to do something completely insane in order to rescue an insane man from an insane situation. Sheppard’s mind ticks quietly in the background – it’s another ten minutes since they lost contact with Rodney, another two hundred feet, another seven atmospheres of pressure pushing in on him. His hands start to shake and he clamps it down, stilling, stopping, closing his eyes just for a second. _But a second,_ his mind whispers traitorously, _a second is 0.33333 feet, 0.01111 atmospheres,_ and he opens his eyes again and forces his hands to move.

He notices Zelenka looking at him as he does so, with something like pity, and Sheppard suddenly has the overwhelming urge to punch him. He feels the muscles in his arms tighten almost unconsciously, feels his jaw clench.

“2,081,” says Zelenka.

Sheppard blinks. 2,081 is how many feet Rodney falls every 10.405 minutes. It’s close to the depth of the ocean floor in some places. Then he gets it.

“Prime,” he answers.

Zelenka nods, and Sheppard is surprised to realise that the little Czech has not pity but compassion. It’s an unexpected gift. The wrench he’s holding stutters over the metal of the grappling magnet and then resumes its action. He thinks for a second.

“5,747,” he mutters, not looking up from the work.

He can feel Zelenka’s tight smile anyway. “Not prime.”

They keep it up while finishing the jumper modifications. 7,333. 19,123. 42,829. 67,129. John’s sitting in the pilot’s chair when Zelenka looks at him again and says “97,723.”

Sheppard doesn’t answer, tight-lipped as his hands move over the controls. Then Zelenka’s body is in his field of vision, and Radek is gripping John’s hand tightly with his own, squeezing. He tugs, and John’s too surprised to do anything but let his hand be taken to hang between them, and they’re holding hands across the front of the jumper, Zelenka standing next to where he sits.

“97,723,” Radek repeats quietly.

John looks up, into Radek’s warm eyes. He feels his hand squeezing back, as if holding on to a lifeline.

“Not prime,” he answers.

Zelenka’s other hand moves up to his shoulder to squeeze briefly, and for a second John thinks he’s going to lean in and kiss him, and for a second John wants him to, needs him to. But then the warmth on his shoulder is gone, and his hand is empty, and Zelenka’s on the other side of the jumper making shield modifications. John’s hand grips the controls instead, and the jumper disappears into the ocean.


End file.
